Bexley’s house in town had been gutted and completely redone over the past six months. Fresh drywall had been painted a buttery yellow, wide plank floors had been installed, and new shelves lined with jars of honey and spices had been added to the wall opposite the big front window that let in every scrap of sunlight. Grandma’s sourdough starter bubbled happily in its Mason jar on the back counter, revived and thriving like it had been waiting for me to come home and wake it up.
It had only been six months since I’d stepped into Timber Ridge, intending to sell the cottage and leave. Then Bexley had walked out of his kitchen, gruff and intense, and turned my entire world upside down with one brush of his fingers.
I’d learned Timber Ridge’s rhythms during the renovations and found unexpected family in the people who’d welcomedme like I’d always belonged. Although Bexley’s parents lived in Alaska and mine still weren’t a part of my life, our child would have plenty of honorary grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
I smoothed a hand over my stomach again and smiled at the tiny flutter that answered. Bexley still got this awed look every time he felt our cub move, like he couldn’t quite believe fate had given him this miracle. I understood because I felt the same.
The bell above the door jingled, and my stomach flipped with nerves. I’d spent weeks perfecting the menu filled with sourdough loaves, cinnamon rolls, and maple-pecan scones. I worried that nobody would come to the opening, though. Or that they’d hate my food.
But my nerves settled when Bexley stepped inside, wearing the “Eleanor’s Hearth” baseball cap he had specially ordered for the occasion.
“Line goes around the block, baby,” he announced as he crossed the room in three long strides.
My heart did a happy little somersault. “You’re kidding.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist from behind, pulling me back against his chest. “Nope. Half the town’s out there. Larken’s already teasing she’s gonna have to up her pastry game.”
I laughed, leaning into him. “She brought me rosemary and thyme this morning. Said it’s for good luck and great bread.”
Bexley pressed a kiss to my temple. “She’s not wrong.”
A small flutter moved under my palm again, and Bexley’s big hand covered mine instantly, splaying wide and protective. His voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “Our cub’s awake early today.”
Tears pricked my eyes. Happy ones. “I think she knows it’s a big day.”
He nuzzled my hair. “Or he. And yeah, baby. He knows.”
The bell jingled again, and I straightened, smoothing my apron one last time. Bexley gave my waist a gentle squeeze before stepping back.
“You’ve got this, Rowan. Eleanor would be so damn proud.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. Then I looked up at my first customers and smiled.
The crowd cheered like I’d done something miraculous instead of just opening a bakery. People streamed inside, filling the space.
“Your grandmother used to braid challah like nobody’s business,” one woman said, patting my hand. “She’d be smiling ear to ear right now.”
Forest shouted from the back of the line, “Don’t worry, everyone. I’ve personally tested the cinnamon rolls! Ten out of ten!”
Bexley growled low behind me. Forest grinned, unrepentant, and shrugged.
I wiped at my eyes quickly, laughing through the happy tears. This was more than I’d ever dreamed. Not just a bakery. More than a home. A place where people remembered my grandmother and shared stories that let me feel like I knew her.
During a brief lull, Bexley pulled me into the kitchen and kissed the top of my head. “You did it, baby.”
I placed his hand over my stomach, feeling another small flutter. “We did.”
His eyes softened, gold flaring in the deep brown, letting me know how pleased his polar bear was. “I still can’t believe our cub is in there.”
“Only three more months to go.”
His voice dropped to a protective rasp. “I’ll move the mixer farther from the oven to open more counter space. You won’t lift the heavy trays.”
I swatted his arm, laughing. “I’m pregnant, not breakable.”
“My polar disagrees.”
A customer interrupted with a teasing shout that carried into the kitchen. “Can we get more bread before he eats it all?”
