Her lips curved, faint but strong enough to glow through the lines of tiredness in her face. “You have done something special here, Lila. Nora would be proud of how you’ve grown things here.”
The words hit me square in the chest, my throat tightening as I pretended to fuss with some of the decorations on the table. Maggie always was the first to bring up Grams and fill in some of the words that had seemed so absent the last few years, now that she was gone. My mother had died young after a battle with cancer. I’d beenonly about four anyway, so my memories had been hazy. Grams was the parent I knew. Losing her was hard.
Of course, Easton noticed that I was choked up. He stood at Maggie’s shoulder, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Not angry, exactly. More… focused. Like he was memorizing every move I made, every twitch of emotion I failed to hide.
“Why are you standing there like a bouncer?” Sage asked her brother, breaking into my thoughts. She flicked him on the arm. “Come sit down before you scare off Lila’s customers.”
“They don’t look scared,” Easton said. His tone was flat, but his eyes stayed locked on me.
Janice, who had a latte in one hand and half an eclair in the other, piped up. “We’re not scared of him. We’re enjoying the view. He can stay standing so we can see everything.”
The whole table erupted in giggles, and I wondered if I should say something about objectifying him, but he winked at her instead, seeming not to mind.
Heat raced up my neck. I busied myself making sure everyone had their books while pretending not to hear the chorus of teasing about Easton’s shoulders and “that jawline.” Thank God they weren’t talking about his “package” or anything.
Mia leaned close, stage whispering, “This is better than the book discussion. You’re welcome.”
“Do not encourage them,” I whispered back. These women would devour him. That thought led to other thoughts. Thinking about someone else doing thedevouring immediately reminded me that I shouldn’t be having such thoughts.
When I risked another glance, Easton was glaring at the table like he wanted to knock all their eclairs onto the floor. Which, apparently, only made them laugh harder.
“Come on,” Maggie finally said. “Sit, Easton. You make the room tilt if you loom in one place too long.”
To my shock, he actually obeyed, dropping into the chair beside her with a long-suffering sigh. He leaned back, long legs stretched out like he dared anyone to trip over them.
“Better?” he muttered.
“Much,” Maggie said serenely, sipping her latte.
The discussion finally shifted toward the book.Jurassic Parkhad been my pick—partly because I knew these women would love debating chaos theory and man-eating dinosaurs, but mostly because I had gotten the cute little dino cookie stamp on sale and wanted to use it. I’d never admit that it was how a lot of our books were chosen. I’d get an idea for a bakery item, and then I’d find a book to match.
“So,” I said brightly, grabbing my own chair and notebook, “who thinks Hammond should have been eaten first?”
Hands shot up around the table like popcorn. Laughter followed, with half the group arguing that yes, he was the worst, and the other half insisting that Dr. Malcolm’s leather pants deserved their own chapter.
Maggie, bless her, listened intently, adding the wittybarb that made everyone laugh. I was just happy that she’d been able to make it.
Meanwhile, Easton sat beside her like a thundercloud in flannel. He didn’t join in, but he didn’t check out either. Every time I leaned in to laugh with someone, his gaze was there. Every time I passed a tray or refilled a mug, I felt the weight of him watching.
At one point, I tripped slightly over the leg of a chair while carrying a tray of fossil mousse cups. His hand shot out instinctively, steadying my elbow before I could stumble.
“Careful,” he muttered, voice low, eyes sharp.
I swallowed hard, managing a nod. “Thanks.”
He let go instantly, his hand curling back like he had touched something too hot.
Mia noticed, of course. Mia noticed everything. She made exaggerated eyes at me behind the counter, mouthing,Oh my God.
I pretended to be very invested in straightening the stack of napkins.
The meeting carried on, the ladies growing louder, Maggie glowing under their attention, Sage snapping photos for her flower shop’s Instagram because apparently dinosaur cookies and succulents were the collaboration no one knew they needed.
When the discussion finally wound down and everyone began bundling into coats, Maggie reached for my hand. Her grip was firm, surprising me.
“Thank you,” she said simply. “This was wonderful.”
My throat clogged. “Anytime. We can’t have bookclub without you. It’s never the same.” I spoke the truth, too. Book club was stale without Maggie Holt.
