@RosemaryatThyme:Preach.
@WisteriaGeneralStore:Coming soon: “Emotionally Unprepared” hoodies. Available in Team Tea Pink and Pub Gold. You’re welcome.
@MayorWilsonOfficial:As mayor, I must remain neutral in the great Wisteria Food Wars. That said, my calendar shows lunch at @TeaThymeNC tomorrow and dinner at @TGDPub. For civic duty research. #ToughJobButSomebodyHasToDoIt #PublicService
@HarryColeman:Is this what the kids call flirting these days???
@MargaretColeman:Darling, don’t meddle. (But yes, it absolutely is.)
The scent of roast chicken, yeast rolls, and Granny D’s famous sweet potato casserole wrapped around Daphne like a carb-heavy hug. Sure, she could make all those things on her own, but her attempts always lacked that special Granny D-ness she somehow infused into every dish—equal parts wisdom, stubbornness, and sass, baked until golden.
What Daphne didn’t like, however, was the current dinner table commentary.
Her brother and Pastor Nate, usually content to bicker about fantasy football or who deserved the last piece of pie, had turned their full attention to her.
Even Granny D had veered off her usual path of widow tales and questionable home remedies, steering them all straight into the land of—ugh—Finn speculation.
Only, they weren’t calling it speculation. Oh no. They kept using words likeflirting,chemistry,relationship.
Daphne narrowed her eyes at her brother across the table while she passed the butter to Granny D. She still hadn’t forgiven him for the rib-photo betrayal. That thing had more likes than her Earl Grey–glazed scone reel—and way too much visibility for her peace of mind.
Brothers.
Her phone lit up beside her plate. Another notification on her morning post. The numbers? Phenomenal. The comments? Unhinged. Way too suggestive of anything between her and Finn—but also... fun.
Especially the ones from Finn.
Let’s just say, flirty-emoji use was its own dialect.
Aimed at her? Surely not. He meant it for everyone... right? For mere marketing purposes?
She hesitated. Could Jack be right? Did Finn flirt with her differently?
She’d seen him at the early service—Lucy’s little hand tucked in his. And the way he looked down at her when she whispered something during the children’s sermon? It had bloomed a powerful tender feeling in Daphne’s chest. Something that ached suspiciously like longing. Something only her dog and God heard her cry about.
And then there was Saturday night’s big reveal about Finn’s ex-wife and Finn being the one who wanted the family, who tried to make the relationship work.
The man who made eyes at her across the counter and winked like he was auditioning for a rom-com? He also apparently stuck through hard things. Loved his little girl with gentle fierceness. And had been willing to walk away from the competition—for her.
That didn’t line up with the charming-but-commitment-phobic file she’d mentally stuffed him in.
But maybe... maybe it wasn’t him who didn’t fit. Maybe she’d just been too scared to really look.
“You’re smiling at that phone like it’s a love letter.” Jack met her eyes over his glass of iced tea.
“It’s called engagement,” she shot back, raising a forkful of casserole with the kind of tight smile that promised violence.
“Engaged, huh?” Jack grinned. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“It’s for the wedding.” Daphne tried for breezy but sounded more like “Drop it, bro.” “Finn and I are just...”
She paused. What were they? Rivals, sure. But they were also... more. Acquaintances didn’t sleep over at your house. Or see you in your flamingo pajamas. Heat soared into her face. Both of those internal statements did not help her argument against whatever Jack was implying. But... they had agreed to start a friendship, right?
Jack’s grin spread like he could read her mind. “Hey, I’m just saying, if it walks like a flirt and winks like a flirt—”
“It’s probably... engagement?” Pastor Nate interjected, grinning around his biscuit. “Definitions are relative when it comes to you and Finn at this point.”
Daphne raised a roll like a fastball.
