“My dad is clawing out of his grave,” I muttered. I’d always felt different from the rest of my family, but this would be going too far in all their minds. If Mom found out, there’d be hell to pay, and I’d endure the cost on each shift I worked.
My concern diminished the closer we got to the house. The Bailey home sprawled in front of me, the house that seven Bailey kids had grown up in, the house that several more foster kids had found refuge in. My parents used to gloat about how miserable those kids must be in the giant Bailey crew. They hadn’t cared why the kids had been yanked from their home or what they were going through otherwise. Just that it must be miserable with the Baileys.
Teller parked in front of a garage door, and we walked across a rock path toward the back door. I couldn’t escape the sense that I was one of those displaced kids. That I was getting farther from where I’d grown up because it was no longer habitable. My home had never served me, it had never been meant for me, and all my attempts to make one for myself had failed.
He opened the screen door. I tensed at the creaking sound it made. My surroundings had seemed surreal until that very ordinary noise. Mae was at the sink, her hands in soapy water. She beamed at me, and my heart caught in my throat, cutting my air off. Was this what it was like to walk into a real home? To have someone happy to see me?
“Madison,” she said warmly. “Welcome. Tate told me about last night, and Teller said he’d be bringing you.” She dried her hands and came toward me. Instead of encompassing me in a giant hug like when I’d broken down in the party room, she put an arm around me.
“You don’t have to chase cattle. Why don’t you hang out with me? Give me someone to talk to while I’m getting dinner ready. You’re staying, right?” She glanced from me to Teller. I relaxed at her not-a-question. We were staying because she’d said so. Politely.
Teller lifted a brow. If I wanted to leave when the cows were secure, he’d make it happen. But I didn’t want to. Mae’s home was different than his. Inviting in a different way. Warm and bustling, even though she was the only one here. Her kitchen was large and open, but the massive table was lined with chairs. Glasses and fruit bowls littered the counters. The top of her cupboards had decorative plates she’d collected over the years, a couple of bushy ferns, and the silver fridge was covered with family pictures and grandkids’ art.
“I can help you cook,” I offered. “I could even bake something for dessert if you don’t have that planned yet.”
Teller tipped his head to study me. The softness in his eyes did things to my belly and summoned the memory of me grinding on his lap. “All right, then. I’ll saddle up and find Tenor.”
I wasn’t impressed by a guy on a horse, not after growing up with my dad and brother, but I so badly wanted to see Teller doing cowboy things. Especially after he gave his mama a kiss on the cheek and stuffed a tan cowboy hat down on his head.
My world tilted, just a little, but enough to give me the sense that I was sliding off. I should’ve stayed at his place. Better yet, I should’ve stayed at Flatlanders. Since last night, ten more cars could’ve driven by and tossed bricks and I wouldn’t know. Part of me wanted to remain oblivious too.
Mae smiled at her son’s departure. “So you bake?”
I would happily bake for hours if it gave me time to straighten my chaotic feelings. “Yes, and if you have the ingredients, I know just the thing.”
CHAPTER TEN
Madison
Three hours later, I marveled over the speed and efficiency with which Mae could whip up a large meal. She’d made a delicious-smelling pulled pork roast and homemade buns. It’d been too long since I’d gotten to bake buns or bread. I hadn’t been able to keep up my sourdough starter once I moved into the bar.
Mae assembled tin pans full of food. “We can haul this outside. Tate said he’d get his boy to help him set up the tables in the shop.”
“The shop is nice enough to eat in?” I hadn’t meant to sound so astonished. Weren’t there mice? Bird nests? Feral barn cats?
“Oh, yes. We have enough get-togethers that it stays presentable.” Her smile was understanding. “At least the front half, where we can party, and we do like to party.” She drizzled a honey glaze over the carrots. “I can’t believe you can make that coconut cake on a dime. It tastes like it takes hours to whip up.”
I’d found all the ingredients. Mae did enough cooking and baking that she’d had the pudding mix and buttermilk, a few bags of coconut, and I’d found enough other supplies to make a chocolate cake for the coconut haters.
Did Teller like coconut? He’d said he liked baked goods, and I had thought of him and what he liked the whole time I whipped up the goodies.
I’d needed two cakes as soon as I realized she was inviting more than me and Teller. Apparently, Cruz and Lane were in town. They were out helping the guys. Since they were around, Mae said Myles, Wynter, and their kids would come over. She had called Tate and asked him to let Scarlett know about dinner, so Scarlett and their other two kids could come. The oldest boy was out helping with the cattle already.
And well, since everyone else was here—Mae’s casual words of warning—she might as well let Autumn, Summer, and Junie know too.
The entire Bailey brood was having a gathering and I was invited. Hell, I was more than invited. I was involved. All those people, all one happy family, and then me. My pulse kicked up and nervous energy zinged up and down my spine. I was the oddball, and I had no escape. I didn’t have a grudge against the family, but what if someone said something I took offense to? And then I ran my mouth? I shook my hands as if that’d help shed the anxiety. “Are you sure two cakes are enough? I can make some cookies.”
Mae looked like she was about to shake her head, but her gaze dropped to my hands. I had started clenching and unclenching my fists. “Cookies are never a bad idea.”
“I’ve never been able to perfect your chocolate chip recipe.”
Surprise flitted through her expression, and she reached into a drawer next to us. She withdrew a small cookbook that was full of stains. “I don’t have to look at it anymore, but that recipe is on page nine. Help yourself while I finish setting up the buffet.”
Delighted, I paged through the book and hit the recipe. At last! I frowned. Nothing in the ingredients stood out. Maybe it was this kitchen. I glanced out the window and my anxiety spiked. Pickups were pulling in.
Would Teller regret bringing me? Was he embarrassed? No, a guy like Teller owned what he did and that included bringing a stray home. And if that stray made some excellent cookies, that’d help offset anything I said.
My gaze landed on the chickens. That was it. Her farm fresh eggs. That was the missing key.
