"I don't know about that." But she squeezed his hand. "I'm trying."
The bell over the door chimed. Wren walked in, took one look at the new espresso machine, and let out a low whistle.
"Damn, April. That is one sexy piece of equipment."
April laughed. "Right? It practically makes the coffee for me."
"Must be nice, being loaded." But Wren was grinning, no real envy in it. Just the good-natured ribbing of a friend who was genuinely happy for her. “Am I the first one here? I want to talk wedding photos.”
Hannah came around the counter. “Yup, just you and me for now.” She turned to April and snapped her fingers in theair several times. “Oh garçon, our usuals please, and make it snappy.”
“Garçon means boy,” April clapped back. "Having so much money is weird," April admitted. "Like, really weird. I keep waiting for someone to tell me it was all a mistake."
"It’s not a mistake." Shane's thumb traced circles on her palm. "You earned it. In the worst possible way, but you earned it."
Maybe. April still wasn't sure about that. But she was learning to accept it. The money. The life. The safety.
The love.
She started making two Dubai Chocolate Mocha Lattes, their new specialty, for Hannah and Wren. Kevin bounded out from the back with Benny at his heels, Pete following at a more sedate pace. "Dad!”
April caught Hannah elbowing Wren as they both looked at Shane’s expression. Could a man look more blissed out?
“Yes, son?”
Another elbow to the ribs. They were loving this.
“Can we go to the ranch? Aunt Arden said I could help with the new horse!"
"Sure, bud." Shane ruffled Kevin's hair. "Your mom okay with that?"
"Are you kidding?" April smiled. "Go. Have fun. Just pick up dinner on the way home."
“Teriyaki wings, extra ranch?” Shane winked.
“You know it.”
Kevin grinned and disappeared back into the office to grab his jacket.
April finished making the coffee drinks on autopilot, muscle memory taking over while her mind drifted.
She'd been tied up in a basement, terrified for her life. Now she was here. Safe. Loved. Renovating a house and figuring out a new school, and a future that stretched out bright and possible.
"Hey," Shane said softly. "Where'd you go?"
April blinked, and came back to the present. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"About how lucky I am." She looked at him—really looked at him. The man who'd protected her in a gunfight. Who'd carried her in the rain while she shook with shock. Who'd driven her home and stayed, and kept staying, and would keep staying for as long as she'd have him.
"Lucky," Shane repeated, his mouth quirking. "That's one word for it."
"It's the right word." April came around the counter, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face against his chest. He smelled like sawdust and coffee and home.
Shane held her, steady and solid and real. "I love you," he murmured into her hair.
"I love you, too."
