Emily crouches to Quinn’s level. “Sprinkles is always welcome at my house, so long as he plays nicely with my cat, Mixie. And I have a backyard with plenty of space for him to stretch out.”
Quinn clasps her hands together under her chin. “Do you have cookies?”
“Quinn,” Blake admonishes, though his lips twitch.
“What? I want to know if there are cookies,” she insists with the unfiltered honesty of childhood.
Jared leans down. “There might be brownies.”
Her mouth forms a perfectOof delight.
“It’s settled,” Chloe laughs. “We’re all going to Emily’s.”
The group moves toward the parking area, our collective pace slowed by my careful steps and Quinn’s frequent pauses to point out interesting sights to Sprinkles.
“The weather’s clearing up,” Blake comments, tilting his face toward the sun. “Won’t get many more grilling days like this before fall sets in.”
Chloe groans. “Don’t remind me. I’m going to hibernate through the cold season.”
“How is that any different from the usual?” I tease.
“It’s not.” Her hands move to her hips. “In fact, you should move into the Homestead so I don’t have to trudge through mud to come have coffee with you.”
“Not happening,” I tell her. “A man needs some privacy.”
She gasps. “Since when?”
Since Chloe found four mates, though I don’t say it out loud. The Wright Pack always welcomes me, but I remain on the outside.
At the parking lot, Blake helps Quinn into his SUV while Chloe collects the market bags from Jared.
Emily touches my elbow. “You can ride with us if you want. Save you from climbing into that monster truck Blake calls a vehicle.”
Blake overhears and clutches his chest in mock offense. “My car is perfectly reasonable.”
“Then why do I need a step up?” Chloe asks, grabbing for the handlebar attached to the frame next to the windshield.
“Because you’re a wee little thing.” Blake gives her a boost. “It’s reasonable for those of us who are of normal height.”
She puts on a show of scanning the area. “Are the normal-height people here with us?”
As Quinn settles Sprinkles beside her in the backseat, the Newfoundland taking up most of the available foot space, my leg protests at the thought of cramming into the back with them. “I’ll ride with Emily and Jared.”
As Jared helps me into their truck, I catch sight of Quinn through the window of Blake’s vehicle, her hopeful gaze still fixed on the market entrance.
My chest tightens.
Whatever exists between Leif and Carson Whitaker, it’s affecting more than just Leif now. And given Carson’s position of authority over the school Quinn attends, that connection matters more than anyone seems to realize.
Except, perhaps, for Leif himself.
I step inside Emily’s cottage and have to stop myself from doing a slow turn to take it all in.
Nothing matches. And somehow everything works perfectly together.
It’s a cozy mixture of hand-carved furniture and crocheted blankets, with cat toys scattered around. The scent of fresh-baked bread and coffee fills the air, along with another, warmer scent that puts me at ease.
“You can put your things anywhere,” Emily says, hanging her jacket on a wooden peg by the door.