Chapter Two
Wednesday afternoon, Becca rang up another customer and realized they needed to place a new order for the Earl Grey she’d started selling. A crème blend, it did remarkably well both as loose leaf and when they sold it in the twenty ounce pot as a latte.
“Hey, Nora, can you take over out here? I have to reorder a few teas.”
“Sure.”
“And have I thanked you yet for stepping in for Zoe?”
“Not yet, but you will when you make me a few batches of your famous sticky buns.”
Becca hadn’t gotten around to that yet. It was a family tradition her mother had started, making the gooey treats to celebrate the fall season each year. When her mother had passed, Becca had carried on the custom. And Nora, ever the opportunist, jumped on the bandwagon.
“Halloween’s almost here. Can you believe it?” Nora wiped down the front counter.
“No, I can’t.” Becca moved into the back to hide her sadness. It hit her like that sometimes. Out of the blue. Neal had been dead for seven years, but near Halloween, the anniversary of his passing, she felt the loss most keenly.
Neal Bragg—her soulmate. She’d had Neal for a blessed seven years. He’d been able to see his son born, take his first steps, say his first words. But he’d never see Simon drive a car, graduate high school, marry…
She took a deep breath and let it out, wondering when she’d stop mourning the man, if she ever would. They’d told her that time healed. That as the years passed, she’d miss him less. But Becca held onto memories of Neal’s hearty laugh, of his big strong arms surrounding her, making her feel safe. He’d been her first boyfriend, her first true love, and the last man she could imagine spending her life with.
A few years after losing him she’d tried dating. But the magic had never been there. She’d been fortunate to have Neal for as long as she had, and she tried to hold onto that gift. Nora had yet to find a man to love like that. And from the stories she told of her social life, Becca doubted she would any time soon. Hadn’t the last one tried to show off his doll—no, action figure—collection?
With a grin, she shook free of her melancholy and, after reordering from her suppliers, restocked from the back. Then she used the small kitchen to make a new batch of sticky buns and a few trays of her favorite ginger-molasses cookies.
Simon loved them, and after the week he’d already had, the boy deserved a treat.
Speaking of which… She checked the time. On Wednesdays school released early, so she expected to see him at any moment. He’d have a few hours until football practice.
Odd, but he seemed to enjoy going to practice more than he had in the past. Simon had always been into sports, but since the seventh grade, he’d become partial to football in particular. She was just glad he had sports to turn to, because lately he seemed to be veering on a path toward an uncertain future. Like falling under a barrage of nagging and maybe even strangling at the hands of his frustrated mother.
She snorted, wondering if she’d need a ladder to reach his neck.
That boy. He had a wonderful heart and a terrific sense of humor that held a twisted edge, much like his father. But his need to have the last word, to always be right, grated.
“Hey, Becks, could you come out here, please?” Nora sounded odd.
Becca wiped her hands on her apron. “Be right out.” She hurried to wash them, noted the timer on the sticky buns, and made a note to put the cookies in soon after.
Once back up front, she took over when Nora stepped back form the counter. “How can I help… You.” And now her day was complete.
Mitch stared at a feminine version of Simon Bragg. A few inches shorter than her behemoth son, she had long, dark-brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a frown that would do Simon proud.
A subtle glance and he catalogued her feminine assets. Check, check, and check. A stunner if not for the scowl on her face. Her assistant, the other pretty brunette he’d seen with Simon at the game, just grinned at him before hustling away.
“Hello. Mrs. Bragg?”
“Yes?” Cool and collected.
Funny, but his heart was racing. Mitch had been with supermodels, actresses, professional athletes. Some had possessed the same qualities Rebecca Bragg did, that essence of attraction that sparked something in his brain…and in other places. But Mitch didn’t do married chicks. Ever. Best to remember that.
He cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to you about Simon.”
Her frown deepened. “Is he okay? What happened?”
Mitch had debated how to broach the subject. After talking to Deacon, they’d decided Mitch should be the one to talk to her. He still wasn’t sure how they’d come up with that, other than that his brother was a scum-sucking wimp who’d rather face a firing squad than an irate mother.
“As far as I know, Simon is fine. I wanted to talk to you about his attitude though.”
