"Yet." Laverne winked. "I've seen the way that boy looks at you. It's only a matter of time. And when it happens, I expect full credit."
"Laverne, did you come in to discuss the baby shower cake?" Ruby appeared at my elbow, her tone pleasant but firm.
"Oh! Yes. Pink and blue, but surprising. What if the inside was rainbow? Or shaped like a question mark? Or—"
Ruby steered her toward the consultation table, shooting me a look over her shoulder that clearly saidyou owe me.
May lingered, scrolling through her phone. "Seriously, though — you two are adorable. My follower count tripled after the wedding posts. Hunter carrying you across the dance floor? Perfection."
"That was months ago."
"Romance never gets old." She showed me her screen — a photo I'd never seen, taken at the reception. Hunter and I were on the dance floor, his arms around my waist, my head tilted back laughing at what he'd said. We looked happy. We looked real.
Because we were.
"Can I use this for the article?" May asked.
"Fine. But run any quotes by me first."
"Deal!" She bounced off to join her mother, and I went back to glazing cinnamon rolls with a warmth that had nothing to do with the ovens.
HUNTER PICKED ME UPat five, his truck pulling into the alley behind the bakery where I waited with flour in my hair and frosting on my apron.
"Hey, gorgeous." He leaned across to push open the passenger door, that familiar grin spreading across his face.
"I'm covered in powdered sugar."
"Still gorgeous."
I climbed in and kissed him, tasting coffee and sweetness underneath. Months of dating Hunter Massey, and kissing him still made my stomach do a slow roll.
"How was work?" I asked as he pulled onto Main Street.
"Closed the Morrison deal."
"The cattle partnership?"
"Full agreement. Dad actually said he was proud of me." Hunter's voice was light, but I heard the emotion underneath. "In front of Hudson and everything."
"Hunter, that's amazing."
"Yeah." He reached over to squeeze my hand. "It kind of is."
The past months had changed more than just my life. Hunter had stepped up at the ranch in ways nobody expected — not just schmoozing investors at parties, but building real partnerships, negotiating deals that would secure Massey Ranch for another generation. His father had started asking his opinion at family dinners. His mother had stopped making pointed comments about settling down and getting to business.
Hudson and Kendall were back from their extended honeymoon, already talking about babies, and for the first time Hunter didn't seem to bristle at the comparison. He'd found his own lane. His own value.
Turns out the family screw-up had been a secret asset all along. He'd just needed someone to believe in him.
We pulled into my mother's driveway at five-thirty, right on schedule. Sunday dinners had become sacred — Hunter, me, Daisy, and Mama gathered around her kitchen table every week without fail. Hunter called it "claiming Sundays." I called it the best decision we'd ever made.
The front door burst open before we'd even made it up the walk.
"Hunter! Hunter! Guess what!"
Daisy launched herself off the porch steps, and Hunter caught her with the ease of long practice, swinging her up onto his hip.
"What? Did Mr. Bun-Bun learn to fly?"
